Secrets Safe
by Five Minutes Til Bedtime
Summary: There were some things that never went away; experiences that sunk deep into skin, impossible to wash off. One-shot.


Title: **Secrets Safe**

Summary: There were some things that never went away; experiences that sunk deep into skin, impossible to wash off. One-shot.

Fandom: X-Men Evolution

Word Count: 955

* * *

There were some things that never went away; experiences that sunk deep into skin, impossible to wash off. Todd knew that he had more than enough of his own oily experiences polluting his soul. Most days he managed to push them back. He'd learned years ago how to stop the sudden flinches, the habit of seeing every person as prey or threat, the desire to hoard food and money as though it were going out of style.

Sometimes, though, he slipped. Usually no one noticed, or shrugged it off if they did. Todd was _good_. He'd had _practice_.

Today, none of that skill and practice seemed to matter.

He could feel the eyes on him. Many eyes. Lance and Freddy and Piedro and Wanda and…he turned away. He couldn't stand to look at them, but they weren't the worst part. The X-men were there too. Not just Scott the insufferable Boy Scout and his motley crew but the older bunch, the woman with white hair and the feral man with metal claws.

Todd flinched away from their looks and then cursed himself – great, another thing for them to pick up on.

With slow deliberate movements Todd forced himself not to run away, not to let his face slip into the terrifying mask of emptiness that he could feel wavering just under the surface. He could do this. He could do this. He –

His knees shook as he stood up – his legs, his best weapon and most dependable asset, wavered. Todd frowned, wondering just how hard he'd been hit. Freddy hadn't meant to plow into him – he'd been running at Summers when the former dodged out of the way. Todd was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and had ended up taking the hit. He'd been sent sailing into a nearby wall to crumble in a pile of debris. All that would have been fine, perfectly normal in fact, if not for his shirt which had torn open when he'd collided with the wall – revealing his chest and back in all its scarred, green glory.

Todd had – well, he'd been on the streets for longer than he could remember before meeting Magneto. It hadn't always been…easy. Though he'd been born with his mutation he hadn't been able to make use of super-powered legs and a long, sticky tongue when he was just a kid. And his green skin and freakishness had made him a target to gangs and thugs and police all around.

He had been lucky. He'd gotten out alive. He'd known others who couldn't say the same.

The scars on his body were a small price to pay for the breath in his lungs.

But the fact of the matter was that the others would not understand. Scars told a story and the one painting Todd's body was the kind that brought out the boogie men from beneath children's beds. They would ask questions. Questions that Todd was _not _going to answer. Refused to answer. Ever.

He resisted tugged on his shirt, apart from shrugging it back onto his shoulders, knowing that playing with it would only belay a nervousness that he would not admit. If he acted like nothing happened, nothing did. End of story. He let his face fall into a familiar scowl and pretended not to notice the sudden silence on the battlefield.

"What were you're going, yo. What are you trying to do? Run me over?" His voice came out normal. Perfect.

Freddy winced, looking entirely abashed, but to Todd's dismay Lance's eyes narrowed.

"What's with the scars?"

Todd stopped his eyes from narrowing – his arms from crossing over his chest. Instead he brought out an expression of confusion. Looking down at his chest – the white flesh where he'd been stabbed for the first time, the spatter of fresh that was raised when he'd been taken in by that one man for the one night and wound up with scalding hot water poured over his chest when he'd tried to leave, the perfect circle where a cigarette had been put out on his skin – looking down he let his eyes widen.

"What, yo, why are you checking me out, dude? Not cool!" Now he folded his arms over his chest, injected defensiveness into his voice, just the right amount, with a tilt of his head and obnoxiously squinted eyes.

He knew what they were looking for, what they expected from him. He knew, even now, how he could salvage the situation. He could see it working in their eyes. Annoyance coloring where shock and suspicion had once been. He held back a smile – and they thought he was useless.

"Shut up, man, it isn't like that!" shouted Lance irritably. His eyes danced quickly over to where Kitty stood and Todd didn't stop the roll of his eyes, even as his lip wanted to curl. Really? They were mutants and Lance was going to act like? Todd supposed not everyone grew up on the streets where sexuality could be changed sometimes at the drop of the dime, or where streets became the only home for someone who refused to change at all. It didn't stop the spark of slight anger that rose in him.

"Why you looking at me then?" Todd sneered. Lance opened his mouth. A flash of red light hitting the ground right at his feet had him jumping back. Summers, the prick, was frowning.

"Are we doing this or not?" he growled.

Just like that the fight was back on. Todd felt relief flood through him for a moment before he threw himself back into the fray.

He was safe. His secret was safe. All was well.

He wondered silently why he wished it wasn't.


End file.
